A month and a half before Arelia's birthday ball, the end of July.

After exchanging money in Warrant, Lancelot and his group left the Olympus Forest and headed to the capital to persuade the runaway Denburg Blade. At least, that was supposed to be the plan. 

"Where are we!?" Leisha shrieked while pulling at her head.

No matter how many times you looked around, all you could see were sand dunes and the clear sky. The temperature was too high to be called the beginning of summer. The experience of the harsh desert, which she had previously only read about in books, left Leisha desolate.

"Sor, sorry," Lancelot apologized timidly.

Leisha sighed, "No, you haven’t done anything wrong. Isn’t. That. Right? Vice-captain, sir!"

Leisha glared at Mac with eyes as fiery as the burning sun of the desert.

"Hmm! That’s right. Sir Diplomat has done nothing wrong. Well, of course." Mac dodged Leisha's gaze and gave a fake cough.

To start with, it was because of Mac that they made a wrong turn and ended up all the way south in the desert rather than going southwest to the capital. Despite Lancelot’s suggestion to hire a guide from Warrant...